As the morning went on, our father noticed a young police officer across the way from our stand, speaking with guests near the lifeguard stand and removing his helmet to wipe his brow. He tapped my brother, the older of the two of us, and handed him a cup of cold lemonade, instructing him to run over and offer it to the officer. My brother nodded and ran over quickly, handing the drink to the officer, who nodded and drank it in a single gulp.
From afar, the scene seemed quite odd, even to my nine-year-old self; the officer did not smile and seemed to be glaring menacingly at my father and me from behind his dark sunglasses. He said something quick to my brother, who ran back over as the officer followed slowly behind.
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